Another One Bites the Dust
by alienyouthct
Summary: "I am Illyria the Merciless, God-King of the Primordium and Shaper of Things." "I am Groot!"
1. Kyln

Title: _Another One Bites the Dust_  
><span>Author:<span> JoeHundredaire  
><span>Rating:<span> R/FR18.  
><span>Disclaimer:<span> Right, I actually went and checked to be sure this time… after being passed around like a slut at a frat party over the past few years, _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_, _Angel: the Series_, and all associated characters now belong to Warner Brothers. With a myriad of writers, artists, and editors, actual rights are a nightmare when you go near a comic book universe. Suffice it to say that Marvel Entertainment LLC owns all of the property printed in their comics, along with the television and movie adaptations of said same property. Not mine, don't sue, and so forth and so on.  
><span>Summary:<span> "I am Illyria the Merciless, God-King of the Primordium and Shaper of Things." "I am Groot!"  
><span>Joe's Note:<span> This was written as a response to LisaGorman's "Illyria in other hero movies" challenge. I'm not sure who's going to be the one who fulfills the third requirement of the challenge quite yet, but I've got three entire chapters to make it happen and so I'm not terribly worried. Yet.

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><p>When her time on Earth came to a close, it wasn't with a bang but rather with a whimper. Dozens of magic users were among the forces that the Circle of the Black Thorn sent against them in Los Angeles. Diminished greatly by her resurrection and further weakened by Wesley's damnable Mutari Generator, it was all too easy for them to defeat her through the ultimate act of cowardice: banishment. One moment, she was fighting three demons at once, inwardly amused at the fact that they thought themselves capable of defeating her. And then the world rippled around her and she realized that they had no desire to defeat her, only distract her.<p>

They called her new home the 'Kyln', a prison that floated deep in the blackness between stars. Guarded by the 'Nova Corps', it was their place to dispose of beings who posed too great a threat to the populace to remain in terrestrial prisons. While at first she did not qualify as such, that soon changed when several of the inmates attempted to assert dominance over her. She painted the walls of her cell with their blood as a warning, and took the head of the most interesting-looking male as a trophy.

The next morning, her daily meeting with one of the Nova Corps members deviated from the expected script: they were no longer interested in removing her from the prison and sending her to live on Xandar while they tried to figure out a minimally disruptive way of returning to Earth.

So she remained in the Kyln. She hungered not, thirsted not, and required no sleep. After the first twenty deaths, she took a twenty-first life and claimed their cell as her new domain; she had begun taking trophies from each challenger as a warning to others and had run out of room in her original, smaller cell. The inmates grew to respect or fear her, leaving only the new arrivals to commit 'suicide by Illyria' as she heard one woman refer to it.

And then one day, everything changed. Her supernatural hearing could not penetrate every corner of the station, nor did she wish it to, but it did reach the processing area that new arrivals were herded through. One of them possessed the song of the green in addition to being able to speak like an animal. The other was even more fascinating.

"_Hooked on a Feeling_, Blue Swede, 1973, that song belongs to me!"

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><p>While he'd seen her in passing several times during his first evening there, it wasn't until halfway through his first full day in the Kyln that Peter Jason Quill was sure that he had an admirer. Or perhaps a stalker. A watcher? He wasn't quite sure what to classify the woman as, given that he had no clue what her intent was. All he knew was that one of the more human-looking female inmates was constantly watching him with a unblinking, icy blue gaze, moving around the common areas to keep him in sight wherever he went. Oh, and that whoever she was, she caused the crowds to part like the Red Sea whenever she moved.<p>

Finally, as they sat down for lunch, Peter couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. Given that Rocket seemed to know everything about everyone, at least when it came to the seamy underbelly of the galaxy, he decided to try his luck with the… Rocket insisted he wasn't a raccoon, but c'mon. "Hey, Rocket. Your left, second level, the chick with the blue eyes and hair who's sitting on the catwalk and staring at me. Who is she?"

Rocket craned his neck as he peered in the indicated direction before hissing lowly, his fur bristling. "Aww shit." Turning back to Peter, he shook his head rapidly. "That? I don't care how exotic your tastes are, humie, that is someone you want no part of."

"First of all, I don't care what you've heard about me and that Aaskvarian, nothing happened. Second of all, bluebell over there seems to want a part of me. Or something. She's been staring at me since the minute we got here." Looking at his other dining companion, Peter noticed that Gamora actually seemed to be a paler shade of green than normal as she stared at the woman. "So seriously… who is she?"

After exchanging glances and several gestures with Rocket, Gamora sighed in resignation before answering. "Her name is Illyria. We have never crossed paths before, but she has built quite a reputation for herself over the decade that she has been incarcerated here. If the Nova Corps records are to be believed, she appeared in the middle of this cell block one day and then refused to leave. When interviewed, she claimed to be of your world and yet she does not register as a Terran on scanners. She has strength, speed, and reflexes far in excess of what one of your people should have, but does not eat, drink, or sleep the way that Terrans should. With the exception of killing one man to claim his cell for herself, she only does violence when attacked by other prisoners… at which point she responds with breathtaking levels of brutality. None who have challenged her have survived to tell the tale."

Peter looked up at the woman in question as Gamora spoke, meeting that creepy blue gaze head on. If Illyria cared about being caught by him, she certainly didn't show it, continuing to sit there staring at him intently. Finally, his eyes began to burn and he blinked, looking away and returning his attention to Gamora. "So in other words, she's your blue sister from an Earth mother? Strong, fast, brutal, high body count?"

"I have a sister who is blue, Quill, and she is nothing like Illyria."

Snorting, Rocket shoveled some of the food that Peter was still afraid to touch into his muzzle and swallowed before pointing his spoon at Gamora. "Between you and me? If I had to pick one of them to be related to, I'd choose Illyria over Nebula any day. Strange lady who kills people for attacking her beats out a genocidal psychopath, at least in my book." Another name Peter didn't recognize… but since he hadn't known who Gamora was until Rocket had explained things to him last night, nor had he known who Illyria was despite her supposed reputation? It didn't really surprise him that 'Nebula' didn't ring a bell. "Anyways, we ain't here to talk about our families or Quill's love life. You wanted to talk about breaking out, which happens to be my specialty. And if we're gonna get outta here, we gonna need to get into that watch tower. And to do that, I'm gonna need a few things. The guards wear security bands to control their ins and outs. I need one."

As difficult as trying to score one of those security bands sounded - what with them being implanted in the guards' arms as best Peter could tell - it was his experience that people tended to go from simplest to hardest when listing things they needed acquired. Building up drama and all that. If the band was the first thing on the list? He didn't even want to know what else might be on it. But before he could volunteer to acquire it, Gamora beat him to the punch. "Leave it to me."

Damn it.

Before Peter could argue, Rocket was already moving on, nodding his head in the direction of an inmate who was shuffling past. "That dude there. I need his prosthetic leg."

"His leg?"

Sneering, Rocket shot a glance back over his shoulder at the man in question. "Yeah. God knows I don't need the rest of him. Look at him. He's useless."

Wow. That was pretty ableist of the little bastard. Considering Rocket hadn't been to the Kyln before either, there was a good chance that he knew the man about as well as Peter did. Which was to say, not at all. For all they knew, he was an amazing hacker, or a sharpshooter who'd gone off the rails after being honorably discharged from the military because of his injury. But since Rocket was had the escape plan that they were hoping to execute… "All right."

"And finally, on the wall over there is a black panel. Blinky yellow light. You see it?" Peter looked to his right, spotting the panel in question and nodding. Rocket spooned a few more helpings of his lunch into his muzzle before laying the news on them. "There's a quarnex battery behind it. Purplish box. Green wires. To get into that watch tower, I definitely need it."

Even the seemingly unflappable - at least by all things not named Illyria - Gamora gave a start at that. "How are we supposed to do that?"

Rocket just shrugged and continued eating. "Well, supposedly, these bald bodies find you attractive, so maybe you could work out some sort of trade."

"You must be joking."

"No, I really heard they find you attractive."

Barely managing to stifle a laugh at the affronted look on Gamora's face, Peter did his best to force the conversation back on track. "Look. It's twenty feet up in the air and it's in the middle of the most heavily guarded part of the prison. It's impossible to get up there without being seen."

Looking up from his food, Rocket shot a glare at Peter before turning it on Gamora and then looking back at Peter. "I got one plan, and that plan requires that frickin' quarnex battery, so figure it out!" Peter raised his hands in surrender, and Rocket eyed him for a moment longer before sighing and shaking his head. "Can I get back to it? Thanks. Now, this is important. Once the battery is removed, everything is gonna slam into emergency mode. Once we have it, we gotta move quickly, so you definitely need to get that last." Before the raccoon could say another word, there was a dull whine and the room around them was plunged into darkness for a few seconds. Then it became a bit brighter as red lights began to flash, accompanied by the sounds of the prison's alarm system. Looking over, Peter found Groot holding the quarnex battery, grinning widely as he held it out in their direction. "…or we could just get it first and improvise."

"I'll get the armband."

"Leg." Hopping up, Peter raced across the common area toward where he'd seen the man with the fake leg headed, doing his best to ignore the words blaring from the watchtower's speakers. Turning a corner, he skidded to a stop as he came face-to-face with the blue-haired woman. Who - now that he could get a better look at her - was actually a brunette with blue streaks in her hair rather than a woman with entirely blue hair. And she was kinda cute, for a murderous not-actually-human being. Wait. Focus. "Listen, I don't know what you want from me, but-"

The woman tilted her head to one side, studying him for several seconds, before nodding. "This place is even more foreign to me than the world I awoke to. I had no desire to be here, and yet no desire to be anywhere else that the Nova Corps offered to send me. But you are of my shell's kind. You could serve as my guide. I will accompany you when you leave this place and resume your adventures among the stars."

Confusing, creepy, and definitely bordering on stalkerish if she was demanding that she be allowed to follow him around the galaxy. On the other hand, she seemed willing to help him and - if Gamora was to be believed - was possibly the most dangerous person in the Kyln right now. Peter could work with that. "…right. It's like this."


	2. Milano

Joe's Note: I've actually had an outline to continue this for a while, but was waiting for a legitimate release of _Guardians of the Galaxy_ so that I could pick out fine details for descriptive imagery. The movie came out a while ago and I actually bought it on release day, but by then I was working on a bunch of other stories and this fell through the cracks. Then one of my patrons requested a sci-fi story with a male protagonist for one of the days of Ficmas, and I was like… oh hey! This thing! Update it! Enjoy.  
><span>Dedications &amp; Thanks:<span> To Alexander, Nicholas, William, Koby, Wil, Thomas, Tracy, Christopher, Mitch, and Jess for sponsoring me on Patreon, and making it easier for me to spend more of my time writing.

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><p>Leaning back with a sigh, Peter rested his head against the bulkhead as he surveyed his… decidedly uncertain… band of allies. While Rocket was a little shit, he was a useful little shit and so Peter wasn't entirely against a continued partnership with him. Well, as long as the raccoon stopped pranking him out of tens of thousands units, that was. Groot was just plain strange, but he too was handy and so the same applied there. Drax? Just in it for a shot at Ronan, which made him predictable enough for Peter's comfort. And then Gamora was… he honestly wasn't sure what to make of her. She had issues, she'd already shown herself to be duplicitous… but she was always the one who could help him walk away with a share of four billion units.<p>

If she didn't kill them all and run off with everyone's share of the take, that was.

And then there was Illyria. Peter had absolutely no idea what to make of her. According to Gamora, she was a not-human who was supposedly from Earth like him and a scarily powerful not-human at that. She was also obsessed with him due to his humanity for reasons that Peter didn't understand in the least, and was willing to go to great lengths to stay by his side. Xenophile? Hoping he knew the way home? Planning to eat him? Peter had no idea. What he did know was that while they might not be blood relatives, Illyria was definitely Gamora's scarier big sister: powerful, mysterious, and deadly. Although those weren't the only ways Illyria was like Gamora, he thought with a smirk as he tilted his head to one side.

Evidently Illyria had managed to hide at least two more abilities from whoever Gamora got her information from. The first, she had demonstrated some time between when they'd started their jailbreak and when he'd made his late arrival aboard the _Milano_ with his precious Walkman in tow. Despite not having any possessions to recover, Illyria had been standing there in between Gamora and Drax - both of whom had been in their prison uniforms - wearing a bizarre outfit made of mottled red, blue, and gold plates over a black bodystocking. Between then and now, she had adopted a blue version of Gamora's outfit for herself, creating quite the view for Peter as she pushed herself up onto her toes, hands braced against Groot's stomach as she rested her head on his chest and used the second of her previously unknown abilities.

Having met a few Skrull in his time, the shapeshifting didn't freak Peter out too much. The fact that Illyria could 'hear and compose the song of the green', on the other hand? A lot weirder. Useful, because it meant there was someone other than Rocket who could properly communicate with Groot, but still weird. How that translated into being able to manipulate Groot's form - and if that wasn't poison ivy she had growing out from between the cracks in his craggy wooden skin, Peter would eat his battered and dog-eared copy of the _Bear Handbook_ - again, Peter had no idea. But since Groot wasn't complaining? He'd leave them to that.

Mostly because it was then that he noticed that Rocket was busy disassembling bits of equipment and turning them into something new. Considering that Rocket had come aboard with only a gun and orange jumpsuit to his name? "Whoa whoa whoa, yo, Ranger Rick! What are you doing? You can't take apart my ship without asking me!" Pushing off the wall, Peter hurried over to get a better look at what was going on. Leaning down, he reached out to grab whatever it was that Rocket had just put down. "See, what is this?"

Without pausing in his work or even looking up, Rocket reached out to bat at Peter's hand. "Don't touch that! It's a bomb."

"A bomb?"

"Yup."

"And you leave it lying around?"

"I was gonna put it in a box."

"What's a box gonna do?!" Groaning, Peter reached up to rub his hands over his face. Was this what an aneurysm felt like? Because the way things were going, he was worried that his head was literally going to explode from the intense concentration of 'oh my God what the hell?' he was dealing with.

And then things went from headache-inducing to downright terrifying as Rocket pulled open a nearby drawer and hefted what was quite possibly Peter's singularly most valuable possession into the air. "How about this one?"

"No! Whoa." Peter waited for Rocket to drop the gift-wrapped package back into the drawer before leaning in and kicking the drawer shut. "Hey! Leave it alone."

"Why, what is it?"

"Shut up."

"Hey!"

Wanting to distract Rocket - and himself - from the last present his mother had ever given him, Peter gestured to another of Rocket's half-completed projects. And maybe he wouldn't be so pissy with the raccoon, he realized, if there was something finished and tangible coming out of his antics. "What is that?"

Rocket's words - quite predictably - did absolutely nothing to help Peter's state of mind. "That's for if things get really hardcore. Or if you wanna blow up moons."

Before Peter could launch into a new lecture about why creating weapons of mass destruction was a terrible idea - especially aboard his ship, using pieces of his ship - Gamora entered the conversation. "No one's blowing up moons."

"You just wanna suck the joy out of everything."

Ignoring Rocket's muttered complaint, Peter made his way over to the table in the center of the room and made a show of checking the monitor that displayed their current course. "So, listen, I'm gonna need your buyer's coordinates." 'Head into this solar system' could only get them so far, and he wasn't keen on the idea of flying around in circles because Gamora wanted to wait until the last second to tell him exactly where to go. Fuel wasn't cheap, after all, especially this far out.

Gamora's response almost made him wonder if 'telepathy' should be added to the list of skills she possessed, the Zen-Whoberian smirking at him as she tossed the Orb up and down gently. "We're heading in the right direction. For now."

"If we're gonna work together, you might try trusting me a little bit."

"And how much do you trust me?"

"I'd trust you a lot more if you told me what this was." Plucking the Orb from her unresisting hands, Peter allowed it to spin between his fingers as he walked over to the table, gently setting it down between the assorted bits of refuse that had collected since he'd broken up with that Centauran who had a thing for dressing up as a maid while staying aboard the _Milano_. "Because I'm guessing it's some kind of weapon."

As the others began to circle around, Gamora sighed before making an admission that Peter honestly hadn't seen coming. "I don't know what it is." She'd been sent after it by Ronan, she had an alternative buyer for it, she - according to Drax - had been willing to abandon him at the Kyln over it… and yet she didn't even know what the damn thing was? Wow. That was… just… wow.

Before Peter could share those thoughts, though, Illyria piped up from over near Groot. "Foolish muck. Scrambling to control something that you cannot even comprehend." Making her way over to the table, she none-too-gently pushed Gamora out of the way before picking up the Orb with both hands. Grunting, she gave a mighty twist and severed the sphere into two pieces… one of which had a glowing purple gem sticking out of its middle. "A concentrated ingot of a singularity that predates the existence of the universe as we know it… and you treat it as if it were a toy to squabble over. Pitiful."

Even as the others backed away from the table, Gamora paling to almost his own skin tone, Peter watched in disbelief as Illyria set down the empty half of the Orb and began poking at the glowing stone curiously. "Okay, so, for those of us who don't speak you-ese… what exactly does all that mean?"

"The Power Stone allows someone to access all power and energy that does, has, and will exist in our universe." Illyria slowly ran her finger over the Power Stone, tendrils of purple lightning arcing between it and her digit as she pulled her hand away reluctantly. Retrieving the other half of the Orb, she pressed the two pieces together and twisted again, returning it to its original state before handing it to Peter. "With it, you would become almost omnipotent, able to do most anything you could imagine with your limited human brain."

How he was managing to keep from pissing his pants, Peter had no idea. His eyes jumped from the Orb to Gamora and back several times, and then he thrust it in her direction. "I thought we were supposed to be partners! You didn't think telling me that I was carrying… this… around was a good idea? I hit somebody over the head with it!"

Shaken as she was, Gamora still managed to sneer at him and bat his hand - and the proffered Orb - away. "What part of 'I don't know what it is' did you not comprehend, Quill?" Shooting one last, long look at the Orb, Gamora shuddered before drawing herself up. "Drop to a quarter of our current speed but maintain course. The buyer I had lined up was Taneleer Tivan of the Tivan Group, but after what I just heard… I don't know if that's wise anymore. I need time to think." Turning to head up the stairs to the cockpit, Gamora paused and looked back over her shoulder at him. "And Quill, your ship is filthy."

To be fair, he had been awfully busy lately. Morag, getting arrested on Xandar - thanks to her, might he add - breaking out of the Kyln… it didn't really leave a lot of time for housekeeping. Which was why Peter had dated Chandra for so long, among other reasons. He watched Gamora's hips sway from side to side as she ascended the stairs, eventually deciding that Illyria was actually doing a bit better in that area. Gamora had tone, but Illyria had size. As she disappeared from sight, he shook his head and then shot a smirk in Rocket's direction. "Oh, she has no idea. If I had a black light, the place would look like a Jackson Pollock painting."

"You got issues, Quill." Rocket just shook his head before wandering back over to his pile of assorted electronic gizmos, making Peter sigh. Really? He had issues? At least he wasn't the one who got off on the idea of a disabled man hopping around without his prosthetic leg. Ugh. Whatever.

As Peter looked around, trying to figure out what to do with himself next, his gaze came to rest on Illyria… whose eyes were glowing faintly as she looked around. Well that was new. Before he could ask what she was doing, though, she supplied an answer. "I disagree. I find the streaking and overlapping layers to be more akin to the works of Joan Mitchell."

Who?


End file.
